Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 Read Online Free PDF Page A

up. One slip of that knife and I’d cause the boy further harm.
    Shouts and calls of “Get him!” were followed by a splash and several curses. I decided to ignore them as I was busy probing and touching the boy, searching for injuries.
    “Just a broken leg here,” I said. “It looks bad, but it appears to be a clean break.”
    “Shallow wounds, my lady. Grazes and such,” Carier reported.
    “Then we can safely leave Carier to attend to the boy,” Richard said.
    “No.” I heard the sharp intake of breath at my response to my lord’s command. Not his, but the men standing around us. “Carier and I have this in hand. He’ll need my help.” For the boy’s sake, I didn’t elaborate what kind of help he’d need.
    “It’s not suitable for your delicate sensibilities, my lady,” our ship’s captain said.
    Behind us, the Portuguese officials jabbered.
    I snorted, not bothering to cast a glance their way.
    The leg had broken below the knee. Sickeningly distorted, it shouldn’t have lay at that angle. We had to act quickly, before it went dead and numb, but the task didn’t appear impossible.
    Sailors were resourceful men. They had to be when they could expect to spend weeks at sea with no landings. Someone had found a strip of wood that would act as a splint, and someone else raced up with several strips of rags, the planks of the deck reverberating under my legs as he thundered towards us.
    I felt Richard’s presence all the time. He was waiting for me to show weakness, to faint or something equally visible, but I would not do it. I wouldn’t show him or anyone else. I knew Carier would be watching too.
    Richard exchanged a few murmured words with one of the men, but I didn’t listen. If it was important, he’d tell me later. I would ensure he did. No more cosseting.
    Closing my ears to the boy’s screams, I probed the injury as gently as I could, then Carier and I straightened the leg and reset the bone into its rightful place. I wished the sailor would faint or that we’d thought to ply him with brandy before we began, but I wanted this done, and I wanted the crew to see I was more than the feeble aristocrat I knew they all considered me. The looks had rankled with me. Now I’d show them I was more than the pampered wife of a privileged man.
    But that wasn’t why I did it. I had always responded to people in trouble. I had seen a man injured in the fields once, watched him bleed to death because I didn’t know how to help. On that day, I’d discovered that I wasn’t as squeamish as I’d imagined. Since then, I’d refused to ever let that happen again, to lose someone when I could do something to help him live. So I’d set myself to learn and hardened my stomach in favour of helping the needy.
    I held the leg perfectly steady until Carier fastened the last knot in the last piece of cloth. Then I sat back while Carier attended to the less pressing injuries, the grazes and shallow cuts the boy had sustained on his fall. Someone handed him a damp cloth, and he sat back on his heels to wipe his hands. I didn’t need anything, since I’d only helped with the broken leg, not the cuts.
    “He’ll need new clothes,” I said. It was likely this man had a change of clothes, but that was all. One set. I would ascertain he had what he needed. The warmth that new clothes and adequate bedding would bring him was essential for his recovery. “He must rest. Carry him below, but don’t jar that leg. And if he becomes overheated, or if the leg swells and looks strange, come and get either myself or Carier. No excuses.”
    “Put him in my cabin,” Carier said. “I’ll watch him.”
    The men murmured agreement, and I watched as three of them lifted the boy and carried him to the stairway. The boy’s screams had subsided to moans and groans. He had probably given himself a sore throat with all that screaming.
    Richard helped me to my feet and we faced the officials, who hadn’t done the right thing and